


the ocean's grave

by haesuns



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Ambiguous Relationship, M/M, brief jeno moment, except jaemin doesnt do much guarding, in the sense that it might be unhealthy, maybe manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 19:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21307520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haesuns/pseuds/haesuns
Summary: Donghyuck is a human, and Jaemin is an angel. When Jaemin is first assigned to him, he’s told that Donghyuck will be the person he protects; nothing more, nothing less.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Na Jaemin
Comments: 13
Kudos: 53





	the ocean's grave

Donghyuck is a human, and Jaemin is an angel. When Jaemin is first assigned to him, he’s told that Donghyuck will be the person he protects; nothing more, nothing less.

It’s an odd sort of thing, being assigned a guardian angel to someone so peculiar, someone who pushes the boundary of being guardian angel-worthy. Jaemin isn’t assigned to Donghyuck in his childhood, no. The circumstances are more unfortunate than that, and nobody bothers to spare Jaemin the full details. He hears uttered whispers of the death of a young artist, the slaying of an angel, all so unfortunately timed and thrusting Jaemin into the center of things.

It’s not a spotlight task by any means, and it’s not like he’s worth enough to be told the details, anyway. Angels are finicky little things, self-centered and blinded and many believing themselves to be too great for humans. They titter at the tales humans share amongst themselves, tales of mortals becoming angels upon death, and they laugh with scorn upon their lips and light in their eyes.

The other angels tell Jaemin to not get attached to humans, flapping past him with an indescribable smugness as if they know it’s too late to be warning him of this as he gazes upon the earth in all its life and death. I know_, _ Jaemin tells them. They tell him that humans are dangerous, foolish creatures who know nothing but how to fight amongst themselves and waste time with compassion. I know, Jaemin tells them once more.

Time and time again, these are the words Jaemin utters to those around him. He says them with such a strangely muted reverence that all they can manage to do is raise their eyebrows at him and scoff. He’ll doom himself, they say. He’s fated to a life right next to them on their imperfect little world, for better or for worse. And Jaemin just tells himself that he knows.

Oh, but he doesn’t.

Donghyuck is nothing like the angels who laugh upon clouds, a heavenly sheen in their irises and halos forever suspended above their heads. Donghyuck is so incredibly human, and Jaemin knows it’s dangerous business. He’s an enigma; Donghyuck cares nothing for pride, yet pride means everything to him. He pierces his skin with dark ink that trails up his fingertips and across his arms before the marks hide themselves under loose clothes. Nothing like the robes of angels, and everything like a human. He gets into fistfights all for the fun of it, discards regard just for the chance of thrill in his life. Jaemin isn’t stupid; he knows these things, knows how humans prefer to act and dress and decorate themselves like a spectacle for the world to see, even if their angel will be the only person ever paying attention to them for such a long time. Everything is temporary, and maybe that's okay.

Donghyuck isn’t stupid, either. Jaemin finds a source of wonder in the knowledge of humans, how they manage to fight against their own cruel world for those they love, willing to put themselves aside in the process. Angels are nothing like humans in that sense, he supposes. They merely carry out the will of the universe, and nobody dares to go against that will. Those who do simply cease to exist in the realm of angels, and a part of Jaemin wonders if anyone knows where they go. Yet everything Donghyuck does, he does for himself.

The first strange thing about Lee Donghyuck is the fact that he somehow _ notices _Jaemin’s existence. It’s not a thing people should be able to notice, he thinks to himself with a frown everytime he catches the boy’s dark eyes seemingly piercing into his own. Jaemin feels he’s imagining things, wonders if the other angels are right about humans making him believe in nonsensical ideas, until Donghyuck finally speaks up about it.

“Are you real?” he asks one day, and Jaemin freezes in his spot. Just a second ago, Donghyuck was sitting on the curb of the street, face bruised and lip split. There’s a sheen layer of rainwater over his soft features, and Jaemin can only part his lips and stare, lightning crackling in the sky overhead and clouds casting the streets in grey. Him, real?

“Am I? I’m just Jaemin,” he wonders out loud, and Donghyuck’s eyes widen by a fraction before he tips his head back and _ laughs_. Really, honestly laughs. It’s a loud and sudden sort of sound, ringing out against the sound of rain hitting soaked pavement in a strange cadence, and Jaemin finds himself cracking a smile. Just why he grins, he has no idea. It’s almost been too long since he’s genuinely smiled.

“You’re joking, right? Oh, I’ve finally lost it,” Donghyuck mutters, amused and bitter and full of life, pulling his knees up to his chest and letting his head fall forward. Cold rain falls from his inked fingertips, and Jaemin stares.

“I think I am.” He must utter the words with too much seriousness, because Donghyuck lifts his head once more, shoulders shaking with laughter. The boy stretches his hand towards Jaemin in an inviting gesture, and Jaemin tilts his head, reaching to take his hand.

The next thing Jaemin learns about Donghyuck is that he’s so unbelievably magical, in a way that Jaemin has never heard of from a human. He supposes there’s a lot he doesn’t really know about their world, because as soon as he makes contact with Donghyuck’s hand, the rain pelts against his skin and robes just as it does for humans. It’s the most curiosity Jaemin has ever seen from Donghyuck at once, setting his eyes ablaze in a heavenly fire that makes Jaemin excited and uncertain all at once.

“You are,” Donghyuck affirms, and his grip doesn’t ease up. It’s shockingly cold against the warmth of his own skin, and Jaemin gulps, a shudder passing through his entire body at the sensation.

“I’m not supposed to be real,” murmurs Jaemin, withdrawing his hand, the incessant ringing in his ears coming to a deafening clamor and his halo’s light threatening to blind him alone. But Donghyuck’s hand chases his, gripping between his fingers once more and heartbeat pulsing through his body, and Jaemin’s senses immediately come to a calm stillness. He’s real.

“I’ve seen you too much for you to not be real,” is all Donghyuck says, and it’s all it takes for Jaemin to really look at the boy for the first time. His black hair is plastered to his forehead, skin unusually pale in the persistent sheets of rain falling upon them both, and he’s trembling imperceptibly. Jaemin feels everything Donghyuck does; amazement, peace, fear. He doesn’t dare utter just how much more sharply he can feel the last emotion compared to Donghyuck.

“But, how can you see me? It’s never happened before,” Jaemin replies, breathless and words carrying everything but confidence, and Donghyuck sends a pointed look towards him that roots him to the cracked pavement.

“How would you know that?” Donghyuck challenges, and Jaemin wants to scoff like every other angel would have. He wants to laugh in the boy’s face, tell him that he’s been around angels far longer than Donghyuck could ever imagine in his mortal lifetime, boast that he’s a part of that world that’s above it all.

But he doesn’t, because Donghyuck is right. There are too many things Jaemin doesn’t know, so much knowledge just beyond his reach that he's been denied. He’s never been given any reason to stuff his hands in the carcass of the universe and tear its knowledge out to indulge his own curiosity, has never felt a real ferocity or yearning for anything in particular. Something pulls him back everytime, blinding light threatening to grow stronger if he dares to peek just beyond that heavenly veil.

The next thing he learns about Donghyuck is that he has little regard for the pettiness of angels. It’s not entirely new knowledge, but being with the human forces Jaemin to really face that singular human trait for what it is.

Donghyuck is full of questions; that much is to be expected. He’s always prying about the customs Jaemin must follow, the unspoken rules and general nature of his kind, and their distaste for the earth. Yet, everytime Donghyuck finally gets the answer he wants out of Jaemin, he just laughs like always. Says that he thinks such concepts are ridiculous, that angels should just accept humans for what they are.

“Maybe you’re right, in a way, about the fact that you’re not supposed to be real,” Donghyuck muses to Jaemin on a Friday night. Donghyuck is laying back in his bed, hair falling against his pillow like a dark halo and chest gently rising and falling in his leisure. Jaemin raises an eyebrow; he’s sitting in the desk chair, a piece of furniture he’s taken an odd liking to, and props his arms up against the chair’s back. He can count the seconds that pass, time threatening to stretch out into minutes.

“What makes you say that?” he asks, and Donghyuck tilts his head up to look at him with that endlessly wondrous gaze, sheets shuffling under his lithe body.

“Angels are supposed to be perfect, right?” presses Donghyuck, and Jaemin nods his head in affirmation, an odd feeling tingling in his fingertips like a burning chill. “Perfection isn’t real, so maybe that has something to do with it.”

Jaemin finds himself reaching to rub his own neck idly, not entirely sure he’s comprehending whatever message Donghyuck is trying to get across to him. “I don't follow.”

The boy is gnawing at his lips again, wringing his hands—an unfortunate habit Jaemin has come to notice—and he sighs in apparent defeat. For a moment, his gaze is faraway, looking beyond any realm Jaemin has been able to see and staring into nothingness. “I don’t even really know what I’m saying, I guess,” he concedes, kicking his feet around to pull the blanket at the edge of his bed further up his legs.

But, Jaemin is still thinking. It’s an odd thing, to be thinking so often, especially when it’s induced by a human. Such strange, indecipherable creatures who think too much for their own good, as some would've told him in the past before he came to the earth. “Are you suggesting I’m imperfect?” Jaemin manages to tease, but he'd be lying if he told himself that he wanted his suspicions to be denied.

Thankfully, Donghyuck doesn’t seem to think much of it, and the sharpness in his eyes returns. He just smirks, head lolled to the side knowingly and heart covered by whatever invisible fog shrouds his soul. “If that’s how you want to take it. I’d hate to damage that fragile pride of yours,” he responds, but there’s an edge to his voice which clearly suggests that Donghyuck thinks Jaemin’s pride is something to be damaged for a change. Perhaps even more peculiar is how Jaemin thinks he just might let Donghyuck do such a thing. It’s only human, is it not?

It’s addicting, watching Donghyuck do the things he loves. One thing that Jaemin can’t help but become worried by is his apparent penchant for fighting; Jaemin is supposed to be the one protecting Donghyuck, for fuck’s sake, yet he has the gall to walk around and let himself get beaten around by random strangers for fun. How could such fighting be any sort of fun?

He grits this sentiment out to Donghyuck one day, enfolding the boy’s torn up hands in his own and wrapping bandages around his knuckles. Donghyuck goes still, and Jaemin mirrors his pause; he isn’t sure if he’s offended or shocked him, but Donghyuck lets out a hoarse laugh, his free hand coming up to hold his side where a rib is fractured. His knuckles are smeared with dried blood, a dark smudge of red against the canvas of his skin speaking volumes to his impulse and fire.

“Didn’t take you to be the swearing type, Jaemin,” he remarks, eyes sliding up to the angel’s with a curious look. Heat rises on Jaemin’s cheeks in an indignant, unfamiliar flush, and if he pulls on the bandages a little too tight to fasten them around his injuries, Donghyuck makes no verbal comment. It’s safe to say that embarrassment from a human isn’t something Jaemin is used to in the least. He bites at his own dry lips, Donghyuck’s gaze following the motion but staying quiet as Jaemin continues tending to him.

“I am _ not _ a swearing type,” Jaemin blurts after an extended amount of time, and Donghyuck chuckles, evident ease settling into his body as Jaemin finally releases his hand. He flexes his fingers as though he’s already testing to see how he can fight with the injuries, and winces in pain for the briefest of seconds.

“I’ll take your word for it. Though, I didn’t think having _ fun _would be something you’d ever suggest to me, either,” he continues, and Jaemin promptly shuts his mouth. He shouldn’t be letting a human have any sort of influence over him, shouldn’t have even gotten this close to Donghyuck in the first place for this to happen. But he can’t tear himself away, and he finds himself sending blessings of luck when Donghyuck takes to his fights, a streamlined body made to hit and inflict damage, sending opponents reeling at his will and stealing the breath of every onlooker. Jaemin thinks that Donghyuck doesn’t need any punches to render him breathless and dizzy; his words are already enough.

Donghyuck shapes his words like an archer; he sharpens the tips, drenches them in sweet poison, nocks the arrow and lets it fly, hitting his target with a sickening noise that brings the world to his fingertips. They take root in Jaemin’s soul, a piercing and solid force, and he wants to hear those words spilled from Donghyuck’s lips all the time. He begins to understand how humans have become the death of angels for as long as they've existed together.

Everything in Jaemin’s being screams to him about how utterly _ wrong _everything about them is, iron constricting his heart and chaining him to his place when his ministrations across Donghyuck’s bandaged fingers come to a still. His hands look like they were never made for such violence, and he feels his own mouth twist in concern, almost imperceptibly. His fingers could be playing piano, writing songs like the impromptu ones Jaemin overhears Donghyuck singing sometimes, weaving melodies for the world to hear.

It's selfish, almost, the way Jaemin doesn't voice this thought. Things will be alright if he's the only one who ever gets to hear Donghyuck's voice, a stunningly soft contrast against bloody knuckles and dark bruises. He lets the boy sit in silence, watching Jaemin's own fingers draw away from his. Hesitant.

It's dangerous business, Jeno warns Jaemin as Donghyuck sleeps, moonlight washing over his features from the window. There's no chance of him hearing the conversation—Jaemin is the only angel Donghyuck is capable of seeing, and he's already asleep—but they keep their voices low, peering over to his resting figure every now and then.

"I've heard that a thousand times, Jeno." Jaemin knows Jeno is someone he can trust as a fellow guardian, but he’s always had this edge to him that drives Jaemin mad. It gives him the feeling that Jeno is always worried for his future, and above all else, it pisses him off.

“Because it’s true,” Jeno insists, freezing when Jaemin casts a deathly glare in his direction. His jaw tightens, and he pushes himself up and off the floor from his cross-legged position. Jaemin can tell that he doesn’t want to make it obvious at how he’s staring at Jaemin’s very corporeal form, the way his robes have the slightest of tears between their seams from its wear in the physical world and the bags under his eyes. Jeno doesn’t question it. He just gazes at Jaemin with that infuriatingly melancholic look of his, something unspeakable hidden just underneath, taking off into the night without another word.

Something shifts after that interaction, and Jaemin feels it as if it’s something tangible, gripping his soul and twisting it ever so tightly. He wants too much from Donghyuck, and it will be his downfall.

Jaemin wants to think that just maybe, Donghyuck is finding something to care about in his cruel world of his, and that he means something to Donghyuck. Just as quickly, he pushes the idea away. He'll do nothing but make himself out as a fool; the angel who came to the earth, who drank the ocean and left himself parched as he gulped it down, the water burning his throat and barren sand becoming hot under his hands. Donghyuck might've told him a tale like that once, if he recalls correctly, or maybe he heard it mentioned in passing some time ago. A story of a boy, not quite an angel, but with wings just as angelic as their kind. The sun, beating down overhead and destroying his wings, sending him hurtling toward the inky depths and welcoming him to the ocean's grave. Jaemin fears the ocean may not be there underneath him when he falls.

But Donghyuck stares at him with so much humanity in those dark eyes of his, beckoning Jaemin closer all the time, threatening to pull him out of the sky and into the ground. It might not be love, or anything even close to it. Jaemin can't help it when he finally caves, weeks later, in the dark confines of Donghyuck's bedroom. He just can't help it when Donghyuck is there, so terrifyingly real and unlike anyone he's met before. Donghyuck smells like his bedsheets, the slightest bite of blood in his scent, and Jaemin drinks it in like a parched man. Donghyuck kisses like he punches, bruising and desperate for something else, leaving Jaemin gasping for air when he finally pulls away. He stares, cupping Jaemin's face with calloused fingers, and something about the gesture makes Jaemin want to cry. And just like always, he doesn't know why.

At last, Donghyuck asks something unthinkable, the two of them sitting out in a storm just like the first time Donghyuck acknowledged him. It's ridiculous, and Jaemin knows the other boy is going to catch a cold sitting out here like this. He's about to insist they go back inside; lightning strikes overhead, and the white light reflected on Donghyuck's face is ghastly. Jaemin tugs on his sleeve, and—

"Is it possible to not be an angel anymore?"

And Jaemin can only stare, eyes fixed on his face in the most outlandish of bewilderment, because this kind of thought is the kind he'd expect to hear as a nonsensical mumble laden with sleep. Never would he have imagined Donghyuck voicing this to him while wide awake, eyes sharp as his poisoned arrows and sending his flight tumbling off-course. Yet in that moment, Jaemin thinks he could've tilted his world off-axis with any words, no matter what they were. Of course he could have. Donghyuck has never been anything less than life-shattering.

The boy before him furrows his brows when he receives no response, continuing as though he hasn't finally broken down everything Jaemin has known. "You've never spoken with any happiness when you talk about being with other angels. So, why are you still an angel? You—"

But before he can continue, Jaemin surges forward and catches his lips in a kiss, and the tears are back all over again, indiscernible from the rain. It floods his soul, fills the ocean with harsh saltwater once more, pulls him as the moon pulls the earth's tides. He squeezes his eyes shut when he finally pulls away from Donghyuck, chains back his sobs with a burning golden padlock and swallows the key, stumbling forward onto the other boy. And Donghyuck lets him sit there like that in some half-reciprocated pseudo embrace, the sky drenching their clothes. A car might pass them at some point, but everything blends together into a flatline of background noise, and Jaemin doesn't care.

(He does, and Donghyuck knows this. Donghyuck has always been the one knowing more, hasn't he?)

"I can't," Jaemin finally mutters, defeated, and he feels utterly lost for the first time in his life. Eons of life, tossed away by the frustratingly persistent will of a single human.

"You won't know unless you try," Donghyuck whispers, so quiet yet booming in Jaemin's ears like thunder, the ringing in his ears blasting in a whirlwind crescendo and bringing his knees towards biting asphalt.

The halo is torn from his head as light strikes the dove, a terrifyingly melodic shatter, and the ocean washes over a grave so heartsick and lucid.

The ocean has been underneath him all along, and Jaemin feels like he's drowning.

**Author's Note:**

> context on the whole Holy Light (tm) thing: inspired by a post i saw about halos giving off a blinding light only seen by angels, blinding in the sense that they serve no purpose other than servitude. being able to see beyond that light is dangerous, but breaking one's halo severs the bond which creates that light. essentially jaemin becomes a fallen angel because of donghyuck. is it fucked up? that is for you to decide!


End file.
